


Best Laid Schemes

by georgiamagnolia



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: First Time, M/M, Slash, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-18
Updated: 2012-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgiamagnolia/pseuds/georgiamagnolia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon has not been himself and Alexander tasks Illya with discovering why, before Napoleon burns out or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Laid Schemes

Illya leaned back in his office chair, arms over his head in a very long and needed stretch. He leaned forward once more and took off his reading glasses to rub his whole face in an effort to energize himself for the last few pages of the scientific paper he was vetting for his employer. So far it had been accurate if deadly boring, nothing to worry UNCLE about that he could see. He glanced toward the desk next to his and saw that his partner was still elbows deep in maps and reports. Napoleon’s brow was furrowed and his concentration was so complete that his coffee cup was still full and grown cold.

Illya stood and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair, pulling it on over his shoulder holster as he walked toward the door of the shared office. He paused in front of Napoleon’s desk. “Would you like a fresh cup of coffee since I am going?”

Napoleon didn’t look up from the report he was reading, just waved a hand in the general direction of his cup and Illya took that as an affirmative. Illya picked up the cup and left the office.

When Illya returned, Napoleon was just as absorbed as he had been. Napoleon now had three maps folded to sections that he had marked with a red pen, he was comparing notes he’d made in the report he was reading to notes he’d written on the maps. Illya put the fresh cup of hot coffee on the desk and wasn’t surprised that Napoleon didn’t notice. He returned to his own desk and quickly finished his own work and returned it to the security folder it had been in when delivered.

Illya stood once more and gathered the security folder and a few other notes and left the office without a word from or to his partner. He frowned as he headed to the elevator and was still frowning when he approached the door of his superior.

The secretary guarding the door smiled and pushed a button which opened the sliding door. “He’ll just be a few more minutes, the call with the Ambassador was a little late, but I know he wants those studies.”

“It’s quite all right, we live but to serve.” Illya realized he must have made the woman think he was unhappy with his lot in UNCLE, glowering as he must have done. “There are so much worse ways to spend an afternoon than reading in the comfort of one’s office.” Illya smiled at her and she returned the smile as he walked into the conference room. He took his usual chair and waited, only a few minutes passed before Alexander Waverly joined him from another doorway and took his own customary place on the other side of the large table.

Illya gave a verbal report of his investigation, there were no surprises and Mr. Waverly spun the table around to take the file. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on the table and his hands folded, he gave Illya a long look.

“What about the other thing we discussed a few weeks ago. Have there been any developments?”

“No sir, no change that I can see.”

“What do you suppose is really happening, Mr. Kuryakin?”

Illya gave a telling shrug.

Waverly shook his head. “Continue to observe, if you will. We are at least assured that there has been no switch as UNCLE has benefited greatly with THRUSH agents captured and any number of plans put awry. But I am disturbed at this uncharacteristic drive. The subject in question has always been, ah, more well rounded than this, shall we say?”

“Indeed, sir.”

“There is being the best in your field and then there is overworking yourself into early retirement. Rather putting the rest of us to shame, hmmm?”

Illya only nodded and refrained from pointing out that Alexander Waverly calling Napoleon Solo a workaholic was rather like the pot calling the kettle black. But the fact remained that something was very wrong with his partner who had not been on a date in nearly two months and had kept the entire UNCLE Northwest Section Two jumping from one master plan to another for nearly as long. They had rounded up and brought in several dozen THRUSH agents in that time and foiled as many THRUSH plots and schemes. Illya realized that if he wanted any respite at all from all work and no play himself, he’d need to get to the bottom of whatever the problem was, and fast, or resign himself to a similar lack of social life as well. His next mission was to get Napoleon Solo laid or die trying, if only to have some rest of his own.

***

Illya wiped cold rain from his face and took up the binoculars again, concentrating on the back door of the house he and his fellow agents were surrounding. He thought back to his meeting with Waverly a few weeks ago and sighed. He had failed utterly in luring Napoleon away from the office for dinner despite the added enticement of a pair of very lovely companions. Mina and Karin had been perfectly understanding as well as perfectly happy to go out dancing with Illya sans his partner. They had tried the best and most beguiling arguments when it was time for Illya to escort them back to their hotel suite but Illya had smiled and taken his leave in the lobby, much to their pouting and playful disappointment. Illya wondered briefly if the evening would have ended differently if Napoleon could have been persuaded to attend. Illya shook off that thought and turned again to the job at hand, the very scheme that Napoleon had been engineering the evening that Illya had been in his meeting with their employer. Illya was certain now that there was something very wrong with a picture in which Napoleon Solo would pass up the company of one or more beautiful women in favour of perfecting a plan to apprehend THRUSH.

The signal went up and the hidden UNCLE agents started sneaking through the dark and the rain and in one concerted effort completely overwhelmed the defenses inside the house. The plan went exactly as it should and every attendee of the supposedly secret THRUSH meeting was carted off to UNCLE’s headquarters to be questioned and then parceled out to various UNCLE holding facilities, almost all of them in far flung and inhospitable corners of the globe.

Three days later the last of the most recent THRUSH guests had been dispatched and the final reports were filed. Alexander Waverly called Napoleon and Illya to his office.

“Gentlemen, your work recently has been exemplary, but the accounting office has brought it to my attention that there is a small issue of unused vacation time that must be taken care of before their fiscal calendars explode or some such thing. I must insist that you take care of this. I am tired of reading their reports, very dry and boring, I assure you.” Alexander tamped the tobacco in his pipe and took his time lighting the briar, getting a good puff or two before looking up at the two agents. “One week, gentlemen, or they will be coming with pitchforks, I am afraid.” Waverly smiled at the consternation on Solo’s face and the barely hidden relief on Kuryakin’s. “I don’t care what you do, just don’t do it here. Of course if you need some travel arrangements, please put in a call to the appropriate office, they have instructions to find you exactly what you need. Tropical, snowbound, seaside or landlocked, they will make all the plans you could need.” He puffed again on the pipe and gave them a nearly paternal smile. “It’s not like you haven’t earned it. Now go, I don’t want to see you before Monday following next.”

The two agents nodded and turned to go, Solo turning back briefly with indrawn breath to protest but Illya caught his arm and nearly dragged him from the office. The door slid shut and Alexander laughed out loud, he never thought he’d see the day that his Section Two Number One would prefer work over play. Then he sobered quickly and picked up his desk phone, dialing the extension for UNCLE’s in-house travel office.

***

Illya watched closely all the way through the airport and then on the plane. Napoleon got more than one second glance from all manner of passengers and stewardesses, even the Captain on their flight had given him an appreciative if surreptitious look as they had disembarked. Napoleon had ignored them all, or been unaware of the attention. Illya found it all disturbing for many reasons, some he didn’t feel the need to examine in the light of day. He followed Napoleon to the luggage return and they claimed their bags and found their way to the contact that had a car and map for them as well as reservations in a quite nice mountain lodge for the next week.

The suite was on the top floor with spectacular views, two bedrooms separated by a large sitting area and small kitchenette as well. Both bedrooms came with an _en suite_ and walk in closet, room service was available any time of day, the bar was not mini and was well stocked.

“What would you like to do first?” Illya turned from the large window overlooking a sweeping valley of trees and river and Spring beginning to touch the meadow with colour. “We can do some hiking or there is even some skiing still further up the mountain. I saw a place to rent some fishing poles as we were driving in.”

“I brought some books with me, I need to brush up on some languages.” Napoleon waved a couple of hardback books at Illya and sat himself at the little kitchenette table.

“Napoleon,” Illya drew the name out with every drop of exasperation he was feeling, “I know every language you could ever need. I will help you if you feel you need a refresher on something. But we will do it outside in the fresh air. We are on a vacation, you remember.”

Napoleon looked up from where he was bent over his books, actual puzzlement in his expression. “We are here because Mr. Waverly told us to be here. There is likely some THRUSH activity he is expecting to need attention.”

Illya rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, it might have sounded like ‘blockhead’ if Napoleon had been close enough to hear. He went to his room and returned with an envelope which he handed to his partner.

On the front of the envelope was written in Alexander’s distinctive hand, _In Case Of Emergency_. Napoleon looked up at Illya glowering at him and raised a brow. Illya refused to speak, only lifted his chin at the envelope in a silent command to open it.

_Dear Napoleon,_

_Vacation is defined as a respite, a period of time during which activity, such as work, is suspended. You have never been in as much danger of overwork as you are now. Please observe this holiday as it is intended, as a break from the stress of your usual role as a section leader. Or else._

_Alexander_

“Or else what? And is that why you booked us in a lodge together, you are supposed to keep me in line?” Napoleon’s tone was defiant and edging into angry.

“No, my friend. The staff would be more than adept at keeping you distracted. They are all UNCLE employees, former agents and office staff who saw fit to leave their posts for whatever reason. Mr. Waverly arranged this, I only went along with it because I have been worried. As Mr. Waverly has been worried. Something has come over you recently. Unless THRUSH has taken over Medical, you check out fine as the real Napoleon Solo. But your behaviour has been uncharacteristic. We only want to be sure that, well,” Illya shrugged, “that you are yourself.”

“Do you think I have been influenced by THRUSH, brainwashed or something?” Napoleon’s tone was indignant and he rose from the table, books and letter forgotten. He paced to the window and stared out, unseeing.

“I,” there was the smallest pause before Illya continued, “don’t think you have been tampered with mentally, if that is what you are asking. I truly do not know what the problem might be, but answer me this; when was the last time you took a night off, for yourself or to take out any one of the many pretty girls you usually fill your free nights with? When did you last go to the theatre or a concert, spend too long flirting with a secretary in the canteen or enjoy a dinner out?”

Napoleon was silent. His back to Illya was stiff with anger or tension, something had him strung tight. Illya waited, hands clasped behind his back, rocking heel to toe, wanting to help but unsure how to do so. If Napoleon couldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t talk, he wasn’t sure how to proceed from here.

“I don’t know, Illya, it’s been a while. A few weeks maybe.” Napoleon was still tense, but no longer sounded angry.

Illya walked across the room, stopped when he was next to his partner at the window where the afternoon sunlight was gilding the trees and starting to fill the valley with shadows as it set behind the mountains. “It’s been nearly four months, my friend.”

Napoleon swallowed hard, eyes a little wide. “I didn’t realize. I’ve been so preoccupied, so busy with work.”

“Is there anything you want to talk about, did one of your girls break your heart beyond repair? Maybe the uncertainty of our roles as agents and the difficulty that it brings to relationships has gotten to be a burden. Whatever it is, I hope you know I’d never condemn you for whatever you are feeling.”

“Did you get a psychology degree while I wasn’t looking?” Napoleon’s tone was edged with a bitterness Illya had never heard before.

“You’d perhaps prefer going to the gym and beating the hell out of me instead?” Illya said it with a straight face but when Napoleon turned to him with shock plain on his face, Illya grinned. “Whatever it takes to snap you out of whatever you’ve fallen into, Napoleon.”

“Dear God, Illya.” Napoleon turned from his partner and from the window, seeking the bar and pouring a drink which he downed in one swallow. He poured another measure of whiskey and took more time with sipping it while he watched Illya lean against the window frame. “I don’t know, Illya, I really don’t.” Napoleon shrugged a little despairingly. “I just don’t find much of anything fulfilling, except work really. I feel accomplished, having something to show for what I do, it’s satisfying.” Napoleon’s gaze wandered over the furnishings of the room, the books abandoned on the table, finally back to Illya. “I lost, ah, interest I guess, in other pursuits.”

“Women?”

Napoleon merely shrugged and wouldn’t meet Illya’s eyes, sipped his whiskey.

“Chess?”

The seeming change of subject startled Napoleon, when understanding dawned he shook his head. “Still interesting.”

“Literature?” When Napoleon nodded agreeably, Illya continued, “Music, fine dining, making up answers to my crossword puzzles?” Napoleon gave Illya a sour look. “Sense of humour.”

“I still enjoy,” Napoleon paused and shook his head, “most of the things I always have. What’s this prove?”

“It would seem that you might be replacing your usual pursuit of pleasure with work, a simple transference of some sort.”

“Successfully, it would seem.”

“Yes, but you do realize that you used to delegate much better. A year ago you would have farmed half of our last dozen cases out to other teams, some even to Section Three.”

“I, ah, yes. Yes, I would have.” Napoleon finished his drink, considered pouring another and put the glass down instead. He leaned on the counter that served as a bar, folded his hands and gave all his attention to Illya.

“But you needed the distraction.”

Napoleon nodded thoughtfully.

“Was this realization that you no longer felt the need to pursue every woman you met a sudden one, or more gradual?”

“Literally overnight.”

“Ah,” was all Illya said, thinking hard about how to phrase his next few questions as delicately as possible.

“The spirit was willing, Illya, but the flesh uncooperative. And the next night as well. And the next three after that, blonde, redhead and brunette. So I simply stopped trying. I went so far as to volunteer for my annual physical early, everything came back fine and in proper condition.”

“Of course you didn’t specifically ask the doctors…”

“No. I decided that the issue, if there was one, would be obvious. Medically, I am in fighting trim. Next I attended our yearly psychological evaluation on their first request, same story. I’m healthy and within standard expectations.” Napoleon shrugged. “Except the part where I let them drag me in without avoiding at least three appointments.”

“What about men?”

Napoleon’s face remained blank for a long moment. “Not since my Army days.”

Illya did not show his relief at having avoided most of the indelicate questions he needed to ask, except that last. That his partner simply answered it candidly surprised him, and he hid that surprise as well. “Then I can’t think what might have triggered this. But I suspect if we relax the answer might reveal itself. The mind has a funny way of doing that, you realize, like a little slight of hand inside your head.”

“I’m willing to give it a try if it will keep Mr. Waverly’s ‘or else’ from coming to pass, whatever that might be.”

“As plans go, it will have to do.”

***

“I thought you said that we were surrounded by UNCLE employees,” Napoleon muttered in Illya’s ear as they huddled in some thick undergrowth, waiting for their pursuer to lose the trail.

“We are, at the lodge. But the three neighboring lodges and the ski area are not ours.”

“Well, if we had cover it was blown.”

“He doesn’t seem to have backup. Maybe if we catch him we can find out if there is an infection of his cohorts nearby or not, then we can threaten to feed him to a passing mountain goat.”

“Why Illya, anyone would take you for bloodthirsty talking like that. What did that suspected THRUSH agent ever do to you?”

“I was promised a week of vacation, I intend to have it.” Illya’s voice was low and clipped and Napoleon grinned. “I am not pleased, Napoleon, not even a small amount.”

“But it does get the blood pumping, Illya, makes you feel alive to be in pursuit.”

Illya glanced over his shoulder to Napoleon so close behind him and glowered.

“Cheer up, maybe you’ll get to shoot him, that will improve your mood, I promise.”

Illya’s only reply was muttering which he made sure to do only in dialects he knew Napoleon would not understand. Illya imagined he could feel the smirk that was undoubtedly beaming from his partner like sun after a rain shower. He frowned harder.

Several minutes went by without sight or sound of the man they had noticed following them doubling back nor of any companions he might have had. The two agents crawled back out of the underbrush and shook the leaves and twigs off themselves.

“Follow or go find our own backup?”

“Follow, obviously.” Napoleon reached over and flicked some detritus from Illya’s hair.

“Unless that is exactly what he wants us to do.” Illya tapped his cheek and pointed at Napoleon with a nod, “You have a bit of mud just there.”

“Providing he knows that we have figured him out.” Napoleon pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed the mud from his cheek, waiting for Illya to nod that he’d gotten it all.

“Or that he is THRUSH at all.”

“He just happened to be at the museum, the park, the diner, and in the woods at the same time we were all day today.”

“I agree with you, Napoleon. I shouldn’t be surprised that we didn’t make it past our second day of vacation before trouble found us.”

“It’s our natural charm and good fortune, I’m sure.”

Illya didn’t bother to roll his eyes, just set off down the hiking path trusting that his partner was following.

Illya and Napoleon were careful to watch for signs that their quarry had pulled the same trick they had and found none. The path was a long loop trail that eventually led back to their own lodge. They quietly scouted all the public areas for the man that had followed them and found nothing.

Napoleon unlocked the door to their suite and they both went through their usual security sweep. Everything was as they had left it.

“Did we imagine the whole day?”

“Perhaps we need this vacation more than I knew, Illya.”

Illya nodded and poured two drinks, bringing them to the sofa where Napoleon sat. He handed one over and sipped the other.

“Maybe the guy was a plant. Someone to distract us for some reason.”

“Why would THRUSH or anyone else want us distracted in the woods all day?”

Illya shrugged.

“Lunch was forever ago, I can’t believe you haven’t dried up and blown away by now. Shall we order in or go downstairs?”

“Either is fine.”

“As long as there is enough?”

“You know me too well.” Illya finished his drink and disappeared into his own room without another word. Napoleon sat on the sofa and took his time finishing his drink before rising and searching out the room service menu.

***

“Good day?”

“Completely unproductive.”

“Mr. Waverly would approve, I am sure.” Illya put the bookmark between the pages of the book he held and watched Napoleon relax in the wingchair across from him.

“Good thing we only have a few more days, I could get used to this.”

“Really?”

“No, probably not.”

Illya laughed and sat the book aside. “I’ll let you beat me at a game of chess if it will make you feel better, won’t do for you to be bored on vacation.”

“As if you’d ever let me win anything.”

“You’re right, I’ll make you work for it.”

Much later they were still playing their game of chess and Napoleon was certainly winning. Illya made the only move left to him then sat back in his chair and watched Napoleon as he studied the board. “What about more solitary pursuits, Napoleon?”

Napoleon looked up from the board. “Chess as Solitaire? Is that some new Zen movement, what?”

“No, I meant your unwilling flesh. If it hasn’t been a medical issue, then you should still have, well, ability.”

Napoleon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m going to win this game Illya, it’s too late to distract me.”

“I’ll concede the game.” Illya reached out and knocked his own king over on the board. “I’m not trying to distract you, I’m trying to figure out how to help you.”

Napoleon uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. “Illya Nickovetch, did you just proposition me?”

Illya let out an exasperated sigh. “No, but if I thought it would help, I would.”

“You are a true friend. And no, I haven’t, ah, experimented.”

“So you’ve completely sublimated your natural, and for you legendary, preoccupation with seduction.”

Napoleon shrugged. “Put that way, it sounds like a disease.”

“More of a dysfunction I think.”

“I’m dysfunctional now or I was before?”

Illya tucked his chin down and might have been hiding a grin or a grimace. He looked up from under his brows at Napoleon and then with a completely neutral voice asked, “Will you try, as an experiment?”

Napoleon pushed back from the table and gave an explosive sigh. “What, now? Did you bring the latest copy of Playboy magazine with you to help out?”

“Not now and no I did not. But I saw a drug store in town, if you need it.”

“I think I could manage to buy my own magazines, thank you.” Napoleon stood up and went across to the bar in the corner of their sitting room, thought better of it and went to stare out the window. The lighting was dim enough inside that he could see the night dark valley and the in the distance the lights of the nearby village.

“I apologise, my friend. I do want to help, but we need to determine if it is merely a physical problem or something else in order to find a way to solve the issue. I have been doing some reading on the myriad of health issues that can affect the physiology…”

Napoleon interrupted before Illya could go any further into what he feared would be an entire health class of information. “Illya, stop. Thank you for your desire to help, but I am…”

“If you tell me you are just fine one more time, it will be me doing the punching in the gym. Napoleon, you are driven at work like I have never seen anyone. You are in danger of burning out, or worse, getting yourself killed with this going from affair to affair with no down time and no respite from the planning and action and starting it all over again. Mr. Waverly has even noticed that you are not yourself. He’s worried.” When Napoleon turned with a look of disbelief Illya stood and joined him at the window. “Waverly is concerned that you will get yourself killed because you seem so driven to eradicate every enemy of UNCLE single-handedly. Granted, you do have any number of reasons to hold a grudge, but you don’t. That is what has been so puzzling.”

Napoleon opened his mouth to speak, stopped, closed his mouth and turned back to the dark view outside the window. Holding one elbow in his hand and rubbing his jaw with the other hand, he stared for a long time into that darkness, ignoring Illya studying their reflections in the glass. Several minutes passed before Napoleon spoke again. “You said you’ve been doing research, you have a theory of some kind.” It was a statement because Napoleon was certain that Illya wouldn’t have brought the issue up again without one. It had been a few days since their first discussion on the topic and Illya had said nothing since that evening.

“I have half of a hypothesis, perhaps, no theory yet. I did get some books sent from Medical; it has been interesting if disturbing research.”

“And now the entire Medical Section knows?”

“Of course not; I am a spy, Napoleon. And I went directly to Waverly for the books, so if anyone thinks to ask, he requested general texts. He also caught me up on the latest gossip.”

This made Napoleon turn to face him again, question clearly in his expression.

“It seems that you have fallen for a married woman, possibly a woman married to someone high up in the THRUSH organization and this explains your recent vendetta. There is also a theory going around the secretarial pool that you finally found a woman who could say no to you and you are so smitten that you swore off women altogether these last several months. She finally said yes and you have swept her off to points unknown and are getting her out of your system, or you are secretly marrying her. It seems opinion is running about fifty-fifty on that one. Most of Section Three is convinced you are trying to get an early promotion to Section One for the purpose of marrying this mystery woman and they seem to take it for granted that she is unmarried but somehow affiliated with THRUSH and you are working to free her from their clutches. There is a very small faction in the canteen that is convinced that you are secreted away with a man.”

“And Waverly knows this?”

“Waverly relayed the stories himself, I have had no contact with anyone since we left.”

“And are you the man I am secreted away with on this clandestine romance?”

“Oh, surely not. I am on an undercover assignment in Chile, Macau, somewhere in the Northwest Territories, or else covering for Cutter at the Island while he is on vacation.”

“You don’t get to have a romantic getaway of illicit and possibly adulterous behaviour?” Napoleon almost smiled, tension easing in his shoulders.

“Of course not Napoleon, didn’t you know that the Soviet abolished weekends, vacations, and trysting? We have also had our sense of humour surgically removed and we manufacture children in grey factories using only the most sterile of equipment.” Illya kept a completely deadpan expression.

“One of these days someone besides me is going to hear you and believe that.”

Illya gave in to a huge grin and turned away from the window. “Enough of the brooding. I’m hungry.”

“Situation normal. Shall we?” Napoleon checked his pockets for a room key and started for the door, Illya right behind.

“We’ll continue this discussion later, Napoleon.”

“I’m sure we will, Illya.” Napoleon looked over his shoulder with a mock-glare. “I’m so looking forward to it.”

Illya merely smiled the smallest bit, his ’I know something you wish you did’ smile reserved for THRUSH who underestimated him and fellow agents who challenged him in the gym or on the firing range. Rarely did either make the same mistake twice.

***

Illya watched their waitress flirt her best with Napoleon and felt bad for the girl as his partner was oblivious to it, or appeared that way.

“Your wine for this course is produced in the next valley over and the winery gives tours every day. It’s really a lovely place and they have a small menu for lunch as well. It’s a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.” She finished pouring the wine in question and smiled as she placed the bottle on the table. “Could I interest you in anything else?”

Illya watched the perfect set up fly right over, Napoleon didn’t even try to slip in a clever reply, simply thanked the young lady and tucked into his steak. He was polite and gentlemanly and even charming in some kind of aged uncle humoring the children way. Illya tried not to sigh as he cut his own steak into very small pieces. He hadn’t had as much appetite this past week as he usually appeared to have. Illya realized that as much as Napoleon had utterly changed over the last months, he himself had been working just as hard to keep himself the same, as if acting like everything was just as it should be would make it so. He was quiet as he picked at the perfectly cooked steak, thinking about the events of the past Winter. Illya realized that he missed his partner, the one he knew so well he could guess which pick up line he’d use on which girl in a bar or club or airport lounge. Illya also realized that this week was the most that he and Napoleon had socialized together since before the changes started. They spent a great deal of time together on the job but enjoyed the company beyond that as well and that very social interaction had gone missing about the time Napoleon became a one man THRUSH destruction machine.

“Do you suppose I woke up homosexual and didn’t notice?”

Illya choked on the bite of steak he was attempting to swallow and grabbed for his water glass, washing the offending piece down and then leaning forward to look closely at Napoleon across from him. “What? You want to talk about this here?”

Napoleon looked around at the nearly empty room, then back to Illya. “There is nobody close enough to hear. I apologise, the idea just popped into my head, thought I’d share. Spontaneity is the spice of life and all.”

“I don’t think that is how the phrase goes, Napoleon. And no, I don’t think you can.”

“No, I didn’t think so either. I never really thought about it one way or the other after the Army. Things happen when you’re in fear for your life all day every day, you come to a place where you just live as much as you can as fast as you can. After I got home, well, it was another world, wasn’t it.” It was not a question so much as a memory of trying to adjust back into the life he had before leaving, finding it no longer fit and trying harder to make it the right size once again. Maybe he had been the one to change shape, grown out of that life and missed what he should have realized then, that he needed to find the life that fit him, not try to remake the old one. UNCLE had given him a place that fit better, but was he now trying again to find a way to make life fit instead of finding the life he needed instead? Or was he trying to change his own shape again, to become someone he didn’t even know? And why?

Illya watched his partner across the table from him, the lights were low and the expressions so quick that Illya wasn’t sure he had really seen some of them. He watched Napoleon continue to finish his dinner, but it was entirely on auto-pilot. Illya could see that Napoleon was thousands of miles or years or experiences away from this table. He ate his own dinner and gave Napoleon as much silence and patience as he knew how.

***

Illya woke in the dark and quiet, a moment of disorientation until he felt the weight of his weapon in hand and remembered that he was on vacation, Napoleon and the lodge and only a few days more until they returned to their more usual lives. He waited to return the gun to its place under the second pillow on the bed, wondering what had woken him from a not very sound sleep. There was a soft creaking sound and he knew. Someone was in the sitting room. Illya slipped from the bed and padded to the door of his room, careful to open it just enough to see the slimmest sliver of the area beyond. He put the gun down on the dresser by the door when he saw it was Napoleon pacing before the window that was causing the creaking sound. He opened the door a little more and watched, wondering if he should interrupt or leave Napoleon to whatever was keeping him up. Illya realized that leaving Napoleon to it was what had gotten them here. He opened the door fully and stepped into the dark sitting area, watching Napoleon and waiting for him to notice, or not.

Napoleon stopped and stared out the window as he had done so much during this trip. “I’m sorry I woke you, Illya.”

“I wasn’t dreaming anything particularly exciting.”

“Would you rather have done something more exciting on this vacation?”

“I get plenty of excitement in my work, Napoleon, thank you. I have managed to catch up on some much needed reading and outlined a few articles which I shall write as free time allows.” Illya shrugged though Napoleon didn’t see. “I am pleased for the most part with how this vacation was shaped.”

“It has been relaxing, hiking in the mountains and avoiding the snowmelt and beating you at chess. But you could have had a more scintillating companion and I am sorry if I have been a damper on your social activities.”

“No need to be so formal, Napoleon. I have enjoyed your company, though I do wish you’d stop brooding, that’s always been my job.” Illya thought he almost detected a laugh from his partner, quickly covered.

“It is, my apologies for infringing on your territory.”

“That’s fine, Napoleon, just don’t start trying to expound on electromagnetism, if you please.”

This time Napoleon did laugh and turned his back to the window. “I promise.”

Illya moved to the sofa, sat and put his feet up on the ottoman, folding his hands on his belly and leaned back, settling in. “What has you pacing, my friend?”

“Your suggestion.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“Most of them.” Illya tried to recall every suggestion he had given Napoleon over the last few days but Napoleon continued to speak, “You are right, physically there is, ah, ability.”

“I detect something else, perhaps an ‘however’ or an ‘although’ lurking around this conversational corner.”

“Yes, but though there is ability there is a certain, ah, pleasure lacking.”

“You,” Illya hesitated a moment, “didn’t complete the task at hand?”

“I did. It just wasn’t particularly moving.”

“Is it ever?”

“It used to be.”

“Just as pursuit and capture of a member of the secretarial pool used to be?”

Napoleon shrugged and joined Illya on the sofa with a sigh, shoulders slumped.

“What were you thinking of during your ability test?”

“Hmm, well, that I didn’t want to fail it.”

“There’s your problem. You should be thinking of curves and softness and perfumed hair or whatever it is that attracts you to the lady of the moment.”

“I’m afraid that all I think of when I imagine the female of the species is the failures, not the successes.”

“You have the image of your miniscule failures stuck in your head and not the very likely hundreds of successes? Hard to believe.”

“It’s not hundreds, you know.”

Illya looked at his partner from the corner of his eye, not wanting to turn fully to face him in case Napoleon would see well enough in the dark room to register his disbelief.

“While it is a reasonable amount, it is hardly triple digits.”

“The gym locker room at UNCLE will be so disappointed. I promise to never tell.”

“You are a true friend.” Napoleon’s sarcasm was evident, though so was his sense of humour. Illya was encouraged by that return to what he thought of as the old Napoleon.

“What about further back in your history? Or don‘t you ever think about the ones that you can‘t ever have? They sell thousands of magazines for a reason, full of ready made fantasies.”

Napoleon said nothing for several minutes. He leaned his head back on the sofa cushion and his voice was very quiet when he finally spoke again.

“I went all the way through Basic with a kid named Bart. We had similar backgrounds, had a lot in common. We just naturally gravitated to one another I suppose. He was a year older than me, had gone to a year of University before volunteering for the Army. We’d get our passes off base and go into town in our uniforms and impress the local girls. Once or twice we chased the same girl but usually we found separate entertainment. We ended up shipped out together and continued our friendship, occasional rivalry. Then we went out on a patrol and got stuck for several days in an abandoned village, weather was foul and cold and we were short on supplies. There were four of us, two would stand watch while two slept. Only Bart and I didn’t sleep one night. It seemed like the natural progression of the friendship we had, and maybe a desperate bid to feel alive in a place we were certain would end us. The weather finally broke and we rejoined our group and the deepened friendship stayed, we were lovers when we could be and when we couldn’t,” Napoleon paused a moment, “when we couldn’t we were just as happy with what female companionship we found. We never talked about it. It just was.” Napoleon shrugged, rolled his head on his neck to break the tension he felt building. “He was killed about six months later, he bled out while I held him, pushing my hand nearly through his belly trying to stop the bleeding, I watched his eyes get dim and distant, it was horrific. The last thing he said to me was ’get down, dammit, you’ll get yourself shot’. Then he took a round.” Napoleon rubbed his hands on his face, blew out a sigh and let his hands fall back to his lap. “I’m sorry if that is shocking, Illya.”

“No, war is what war is, and so is friendship. I am glad you shared it with me, though sorry that it had so unhappy an ending for you.”

“I’m sure we would have parted ways once we were back to our real lives, there was something impermanent about it, but more than just a getting through it, coping with it. I think we did care for each other. We were so young though, what do we know when we’re so damn young?”

“We know enough to live while we can, I suppose.”

“Is that what I’ve done, Illya, forgotten how to live?”

“No, my friend, you just forgot how to balance it all. I am sure you have a chance of complete recovery though.”

“Is that your opinion as a doctor?”

“If a doctorate in Quantum Mechanics could fix what ails you, I would treat you in a heartbeat. I am afraid that it will simply have to be my opinion as your friend and partner.”

“Good enough for me.”

They sat on the sofa for a long while, quiet, neither willing to disturb the calm dark night again just yet.

 

Illya woke again. It was dark, still, and very warm. Of course he didn’t remember falling asleep on the comfortable sofa, slouching to the side to curl into the heat of the body next to his. Now that heat was wrapped around him, his partner curled against his back the way they usually slept when sharing close quarters, small one bed hotel rooms and the occasional enemy prison cell. The sofa was comfortable enough and if Napoleon was finally getting rest he didn’t want to disturb that, so he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift back to sleep, smiling as he did.

The window was just starting to glow with a hint of coming dawn when Illya woke a third time that night, Napoleon still warm at his back. And hard. A perfectly normal physiological response so at least his partner hadn’t lied about functionality. Illya debated going back to sleep again. He did not get to finish that debate with himself, Napoleon stirred against him.

“Illya?” Napoleon’s voice was thick with sleep, low in his throat.

“Yes, Napoleon.”

“Why didn’t we go to bed?”

“Now who’s propositioning?”

“I value my head attached to my shoulders, thank you.”

Illya executed a turn that would do an eel proud, quite the trick in pyjamas on the edge of a couch. “Think of it as an experiment.” He was facing Napoleon now, sleepy eyed and relaxed. “Expediency perhaps.” The sofa was still comfortable, but narrow, forcing the two men close.

“And don’t you find that a bit degrading, Illya, to be a stand in for whatever I seem to be looking for and not finding?”

“I’m an opportunist, Napoleon, and pleasure is fleeting, like life. We should enjoy it as often as we can, wherever we find it.”

“You have some sad story about the Navy to share?”

“No, I was too busy being sleep deprived and playing poker for vodka to explore other options. Let’s just say that my University days were adventurous and leave the telling for another day.”

“You will tell me then?”

“Eventually.” Illya pressed closer. “For now, let us have less of the reminiscing and more with the creation of new memories.”

Napoleon leaned forward the few inches needed to press his lips to Illya’s, tentative and nearly shy. Illya accepted him, allowed Napoleon to set the pace for now, silently rejoicing that there had been a positive response at all. His partner was not the slick lothario here, instead he was exploring and delighted as if opening a birthday present with every kiss and caress he bestowed. Illya responded, Napoleon’s knowing hands and mouth playing him, and gave as much as he was given.

The sun broke the dark horizon and the room started to fill with light as the window glowed with dawn. Pyjamas unbuttoned and pushed aside, Illya and Napoleon didn’t notice. Illya wrapped one large hand around Napoleon’s hard cock and stroked, Napoleon repaid him in kind and their mouths sought each other, breath coming faster. Tongues teased and tasted and shared a thrust and parry while Illya held Napoleon’s head with his other hand and Napoleon’s slid down Illya’s back to cup his bare cheek and pull him closer. Illya broke the kiss and slid his lips to Napoleon’s ear, biting just hard enough on the lobe before speaking in a honey over gravel voice, “Come for me, Napoleon.”

Napoleon arched against Illya, hands pressing him closer and stroking him faster, matching the unrelenting pace Illya set. “With me, Illya, with me.”

Illya opened his mouth on his partner’s neck, teeth pressing and sucking just enough to keep from screaming his orgasm as Napoleon pulled him along for the ride, arching against him and spilling over his hand. They collapsed back on the sofa, panting and spent in a tangle of clothing and strewn pillows.

Illya watched Napoleon bring his hand to his mouth and lick one finger, groaned and slid his hand through the come on Napoleon’s belly, their seed mixed there.

“Experiments have to be repeated, right? That’s part of the testing procedure, isn’t it? You have to be able to duplicate results.”

“Yes, Napoleon, that would be sound scientific exploration.”

“I propose we try again later, perhaps with more room to move, maybe we’ll discover some new data.”

“Your room or mine?”

“Yes.” Napoleon laughed. “And the shower, and maybe the tub. And that bit of floor in front of the fireplace.”

“There is no fireplace here.”

“There is at my apartment.”

“I fear I may have created a monster.”

“A little late to complain now.”

“Not at all, simply an observation.”

“Observation. Another of your scientific tools.”

“Indeed. Let’s try the shower next. And then breakfast. And maybe we’ll go out after that. We only have a few days left.”

“Yes, well, first things first. Shower it is.”

***

The dining room was nearly empty when Illya and Napoleon arrived for a late lunch. Illya caught Napoleon’s attention and drew it toward the back where a young man was reading a book with a plate of sandwiches in front of him. It was the young man that had followed them earlier. The young man did not look up when they took a table behind him. They ordered sandwiches themselves and waited for the waitress to go. Before they could approach the young man, a girl entered the dining room and joined him.

“Are you still reading that detective novel?”

“It’s my seventh this week,” he put the book down and smiled at her. She was older than him by a few years, the resemblance striking.

“I thought you’d decided you weren’t cut out to be a detective.”

“Well, obviously following complete strangers is hard, there must be some trick to it. I have been practicing more and getting better.”

“If you say so. Finish your lunch, I promised mom and dad that I wouldn’t let you starve on vacation.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned and dutifully picked up a triangle of tuna on wheat and took a huge bite.

Napoleon and Illya exchanged grins and relaxed.

***

“Mr. Kuryakin, thank you for joining me. Tea?” Mr. Waverly picked up the carafe and looked at Illya expectantly.

“Thank you, sir.” Illya nodded.

“I think you might find the documents we confiscated rather enlightening. Look them over and we’ll discuss how to proceed.” Alexander started to pour hot tea into cups as Illya opened the folder his employer had indicated with a nod.

Most of the documents were torn, some had singed edges, but there was enough information to make clear the intent. He read through them all as he sipped his cooling tea. Alexander filled and lit his pipe, drank his tea and waited patiently.

Illya closed the folder and nodded when Alexander picked up the tea again, he held out the cup and Alexander poured. “By proceed I suspect you want to know how much you think we should share with my partner.”

“Indeed, Mr. Kuryakin. And what do you think of the evaluation?”

“I think THRUSH is shockingly uninformed about what makes Napoleon tick. That is to our advantage, of course. Not theirs, obviously.”

Alexander laughed. “You are right. Now we know what was supposed to happen, in light of this information I think we need no longer worry that Mr. Solo is heading for a breakdown.”

“No, I am sure of it.” Illya’s smile was small and knowing, he sipped his tea as satisfied as a sphinx.

“THRUSH expected that the nitrate drug they modified would cause Napoleon to lose confidence in himself because they believe that his prowess with women is the only valuation of success he has, instead that backfired. He poured all that energy into beating them and now they are on the run like never before. Instead of taking out the leading source of opposition, they strengthened him. Not what they wanted, I am sure. They got caught in the cage they made.”

“Indeed, Mr. Kuryakin. But once the effects of the drug were out of Mr. Solo’s system, why did he not return to his usual habits?”

“He said something to me while we were on vacation, about pursuit making him feel alive. I do not think he pursues women because he sees it as some measure of worth, but because it makes him feel most alive to successfully capture the objective. And he very easily transferred that pursuit to THRUSH. He will at least be relieved that the issue was external.”

“The drug should have been long out of his system by the time he had his physical, did the clean bill of health not, ah, reassure him that all was functioning as it should?”

“By that time he was past the point of caring, I think. He has proven to himself at least that all systems are go again. We will soon see a more well balanced agent, the Napoleon Solo we are used to seeing.”

“Not that I am complaining about his sudden shift in attention, but it will be good to have him back. And I believe the Accounting Office misses his creative explanations for replacement of suits.” Alexander chuckled. “I leave it to you to share this information with your partner, I am sure it is not a subject he wants to talk about with his employer.”

Much Later …

“So what you are telling me is that THRUSH thought that slipping me a drug to cause, ah, loss of function,” Napoleon paused to take a long drink of his martini, “I would then be so devastated by my impotency that I would quit my job?”

“Well perhaps, or at least become so distracted that you got yourself killed. Instead they got a super-agent who never let them rest. They really don’t know you well.”

“Everyone knows that I’m shallow and measure my own worth on the planet by how well and how many women I bed, Illya.” Napoleon finished the drink and poured himself a second. He leaned back on the couch and sipped.

“Humph.”

“You realize that you sound exactly like Waverly when you do that?”

Illya only rolled his eyes and finished his drink, leaning forward to sit the glass on the coffee table.

“So now he expects everything to go back to the way it was?”

“I think he merely expects us to do as we always have, our best.”

“What about you, what do you expect?”

Illya looked over his shoulder as he leaned forward still, “I have no expectations, Napoleon.”

“Others do.”

“I am not they.”

“Stop being the inscrutable Russian and tell me what you want.” Napoleon leaned forward and sat his own now empty glass on the table next to Illya’s. “Because what I want,” Napoleon’s voice took on a dark edge, low in the back of his throat, “is you.”

“We are expected to date girls, Napoleon, not one another.”

“Do you want to date girls? I have no exclusive claim to you.”

Illya raised a brow and thought of all the times Napoleon would have a quiet little pout about his social life. Though to be fair, Napoleon had also encouraged him on more than one occasion, that model on that train at New Year’s a few years back came to mind. It seemed as long as the girl appeared to keep her options open and not as if she would want to tie Illya to something long term, Napoleon was happy to push him along.

“I am happy dating girls, Napoleon, but not exclusively.”

Napoleon’s face was blank for a moment, and then the smile that filled his lips and brightened his eyes made Illya return one to him.

“I believe we have some investigation to attend to, Illya, over near the fireplace perhaps?”

“Indeed, we should get right on that.”

“We can worry about the girls later, yes?”

“We can. My friends Mina and Karin will be back in town in a few weeks, you should really meet them. They like adventure.”

“And where did you find these young ladies?”

“They found me, Napoleon, long ago. We were at the Sorbonne at the same time. We have stayed in touch. You’ll like them, I know it.”

Napoleon gave Illya a doubtful look.

“No, you will. While it is true that we know one another rather more closely than some students would have known their friends from school, Mina and Karin are very much a couple. The adventure is who they sometimes invite into the circle of their relationship. I promise you will never forget them. Trust me, my friend.”

“I always do, partner.”

**Author's Note:**

> The wild, cruel beast is not behind the bars of the cage. He is in front of it. - Alex Munthe


End file.
